


Faith and Trust and Pixie Dust

by GretaRama



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Also other sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Auctioned Cecil, Carlos is a Good Boyfriend, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Consent, M/M, Oral Sex, POV Carlos (Welcome to Night Vale), Poor Cecil, lot 37
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 19:53:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3662877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GretaRama/pseuds/GretaRama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos is back, Cecil is traumatized by being owned by someone who uses his body without permission or volition, and Carlos solves a problem by thinking (it’s part of being a scientist). Also, jellybeans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faith and Trust and Pixie Dust

Carlos had been back for a week, but it still felt like some part of him was missing, lost in the sands of the desert otherworld. Whether he belonged in Night Vale or anywhere else, he knew he belonged with Cecil, and had expected to feel the same mystical sense of rightness he had always felt when the two of them were together. Instead, he felt like a worn out puzzle piece, one that had accidentally been bent or broken and no longer quite fit into its designated spot.

He didn’t know what to do.

At first, Cecil had behaved exactly as Carlos had expected and imagined he would upon being reunited with his long-lost boyfriend. He had flung himself around Carlos, enveloping him in a hug so heartfelt Carlos had nearly had the breath knocked out of him. The whole way home, they had scarcely been able to break contact for even a second. Cecil kept taking hold of his hand as if he had to confirm for himself that Carlos was really there. Carlos found it hard to stop himself from brushing his hand along Cecil’s cheek, squeezing his knee, or making any kind of small contact, a little pleasure too long denied.

As soon as they got home, they lay down together in bed. Carlos had told Cecil all about the desert otherworld and the discoveries he had made, Cecil had filled him in on some of the recent developments in town, and it felt as good and right as it ever had. But when Carlos started to kiss Cecil, Cecil had demurred.

“I’m exhausted, Carlos,” he had said. “Physically, mentally, emotionally exhausted, and I…I can’t stay up for another second.” And he had fallen asleep instantly.

The following morning, instead of waking up in a sweaty tangle with various limbs asleep, Carlos had woken up surrounded by cool, smooth sheets. Cecil was curled into a tight ball on the opposite side of the bed, with his back to Carlos.

On each subsequent night, Cecil seemed more and more standoffish, falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, increasingly avoiding any prolonged physical contact between them. The expanse of bed that stretched between them each morning was beginning to seem like a vast, unbridgeable abyss.

Before, Cecil had loved to be touched, had seemed almost starved for contact, like he couldn't remember ever having been touched by anyone before, and perhaps that was even true. He had been intensely physically affectionate, passionate, never remote and chilly. He had never turned away from Carlos before.

Finally, Carlos had come right out and asked. “Cecil, is something wrong?”

“Wrong?” Cecil had asked, but he hadn’t denied it. 

“Every time I try to kiss you, or hold you, or…you know,” he had said, “Take things beyond kissing, you pull away, or fall asleep, or get all quiet. It isn’t like you. Did I do something to upset you?” 

“No,” Cecil said. “No, you didn’t do anything…I don’t know, exactly. Of course I _want_ to – you have no idea how much - but I just…maybe we just need to take things a little slow? Kind of…ease back into things.”

This seemed so wildly out of character that Carlos almost laughed, but then he saw how distressed Cecil looked. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry,” he said. He knew he often missed emotional cues, and supposed there might be some nuance to their reunion that he was missing. “I’m being insensitive. Yeah, of course, of _course_ we can take as much time as you want. I just meant – if you’re mad at me about something, or if something is bothering you…you can tell me. I _want_ you to tell me.”

I know,” Cecil had said with a tremulous smile. “But there isn’t anything like that.”

Dating someone with so few intact memories of early life could be something of a mine field, Carlos knew. Always in the past, his partners had known little things like their turn-ons, triggers, likes and dislikes. They generally had some idea if they had experienced a dire emotional trauma, and could help navigate the troubled waters of intimate relationships. Cecil, on the other hand, was frequently as surprised as Carlos was by his responses to various emotional and physical stimuli – but always before, he had taken solace in their closeness. Their relationship had always been the most normal thing in either of their lives. Now, suddenly, something was wrong, deeply wrong, and Cecil couldn’t or wouldn’t tell him what it was, and even being together offered no respite.

So Carlos waited, and worried.

The crisis finally came a few nights later. They were watching TV on the sofa, and the welcome warmth of Cecil’s body against his lulled him and tempted him beyond his ability to resist. He was gentle, careful, slow, and Cecil had responded, warmly, urgently, and everything had seemed so safe and familiar and wonderful, and then Carlos had rolled on top of his boyfriend and Cecil had gone pale, struggling frantically to extricate himself from Carlos’s embrace. Then, just as abruptly, Cecil had burst into tears.

“Hey,” Carlos said, mind reeling from the sudden emotional shift. “Cecil, sweetie, what’s the matter?”

“I don’t know,” Cecil sniffed, inhaling unsteadily. “I don’t know. I just…can’t.”

Carlos grabbed the remote, turned the TV off, and held Cecil until the tears passed, thinking.

Carlos was a scientist both by profession and by disposition. He solved problems through a logical sequence of questions, research, hypotheses, tests, and analysis. He had never known this approach not to work. He looked down at Cecil’s head where it rested on his chest. He was going to figure this out. He was going to find a solution.

* * *

He started with research and observation. Regardless of what Cecil said, there clearly _was_ a problem. Carlos knew there had been plenty of troubling events over the year he had been gone, but he tended to focus more on the scientific ramifications of these events than the emotional repercussions. Cecil, like so many other residents of Night Vale, had always had a fairly reckless attitude toward his own mental wellbeing; a natural resiliency that seemed to carry him through all his trials with equanimity. This was clearly no longer the case. Something had gotten through his defenses.

There were other things, too, things he hadn't really taken stock of initially. Cecil had lost weight, and didn't smile as often as Carlos remembered. He seemed withdrawn, less gregarious, and hadn't indulged in any outrageous oversharing on the radio. Carlos had never thought he would miss the unsettling feeling that the entire town knew everything about his love life, but he did. His boyfriend seemed to be burning at a lower wattage than usual, and Carlos cursed himself for his failure to take note of these signs earlier.

Carlos was fairly sure it all had to do with Lot 37 of the Sheriff’s Secret Police Auction. Cecil had been disturbed to find himself listed for sale, but had seemed to be taking it in stride, especially when nothing alarming happened right away. Later, though, he had seemed deeply troubled by the way his body was being used without his permission. His two unwilling and unremembered rescue efforts seemed to mark the point when Cecil's light began to dim.

“Cecil? Can we talk about the other night?” he asked one evening after work.

“Oh,” Cecil said. “Of course. I’m so, so sorry, I have no idea what’s wrong with me…I…of course I really want to, I want _you_ , so much, but…well,” he trailed off unhappily.

Carlos took Cecil’s hands in his and squeezed. “Cecil, you have nothing - _nothing_ \- to apologize for. There isn’t anything wrong with you. We’re going to figure this out, I promise.” He met Cecil’s eyes and Cecil nodded. “I don’t want anything like that to happen ever again. I should have thought – but I was just so happy to be back, and to be with you – I didn’t think about all the stuff that’s happened, and how it must have affected you. Can you just tell me if you think this might have something to do with the auction, and you being Lot 37?”

Cecil’s face was downcast and he stared at the floor for several seconds. “I think it has everything to do with that,” he said, finally. “I didn’t want to think that it could affect me, and _us_ , so much, but how could it not? I don’t know who to trust anymore, and I haven’t feel really safe since…well, I can hardly remember. Since you left, I guess.”

Carlos felt a flash of anger so intense it startled him. Cecil must have been able to read the emotion on his face because his eyes widened. “Are you…angry? With me?”

“God, no, Cecil, never,” he replied quickly. “I’m angry and whoever fucking did this. First there was all the stuff with StrexCorp, and then you were fucking _sold_ at a fucking _auction_ , which – how is that even legal? And now someone is using your body without your will –I _hate_ that someone thinks they own you. That they can force you to do things without your consent. It’s _awful._ I’m furious with whoever that person is.”

“Well, to be fair,” Cecil said, with a flash of his old insouciance, “I’ve always known that free will is an illusion.”

“Yes, but until recently you’ve at least been able to enjoy the illusion along with the rest of us.”

“Oh, Carlos,” Cecil sighed. He covered his face with his hands. “How did this all get so complicated?”

“I don’t know,” Carlos said. “I just want to un-complicate it. I _miss_ you.”

“I miss you, too.” Cecil sighed and his shoulders slumped. “I really wish I had seen who won me at that auction. Or that I had remembered to raise my paddle.”

“It’s not your fault,” Carlos said gently. “But…Cecil, I have to ask: you totally black out during those times, right? You don’t remember anything?”

“No, nothing.”

“Okay,” Carlos sighed, relieved. “That’s good. Well, I mean, obviously it’s not _good_ , but it means that whatever is going on, nobody is manipulating you when we’re together.”

“Yet,” Cecil said darkly. “Whoever it is could do whatever they want with me at any time.”

“Look, I’m not going to give up and let these people, or this person, or whoever they are, take you away from me. I want my boyfriend back. I’m not giving you up without a fight. Eventually we’ll figure out who that person is, but meanwhile, I really, _really_ don’t want what they’re doing to ruin what we have. So here’s what I think: for now, we need to establish a slightly different set of rules regarding physical contact.”

“Rules?” Cecil said uncertainly.

“Here’s what I was thinking,” Carlos said, removing a small bag of jellybeans from his pocket and handing them to Cecil.

“Um,” Cecil said, holding the bag in the flat of his hand as if Carlos had just handed him a jellyfish.

“I thought of using something else,” Carlos explained. “But jellybeans…I don’t know. They seemed so harmless. Innocent. Sweet.”

“Right, not like those dark, whorish lollipops,” Cecil replied seriously, and Carlos laughed.

“The point is, you have _all_ the jellybeans right now, and jellybeans can be traded for favors. If you want a kiss, you give me a jellybean and tell me what you want. If you want me to take off my shirt, it will cost you one jellybean. If _you_ want to take off my shirt...one jellybean.”

“Oh,” Cecil said, setting the bag down on his knee and looking at it thoughtfully. “And what if you want a favor?”

“Once I have a jellybean from you, I can request a favor. But, while you can ask me to touch you or ask to touch me, I can only ask you to touch yourself. You can refuse any of my requests at any time, but I _can’t_ refuse any of yours.”

“That seems unfair,” Cecil said.

“I think maybe things need to be a little unfair in your favor, at least for now. That’s my hypothesis, anyway.”

“So this is an experiment?”

“Well, sort of. Obviously I’m too directly involved, so it’s not really scientific…it’s more in the nature of anthropology. Participant observation,” he smiled at Cecil. “I think…well, I think you’ve always been comfortable ceding a certain amount of control over yourself, but now, with everything that’s happened…you’re just not. Someone has taken away your control over your body, but that’s _not_ how it works with me, okay? With me, you’re always in control. Those are the rules. What do you think?”

Cecil was silent for several seconds. “I’m willing to try it,” he said, looking a little nervous. Carlos couldn’t blame him; he was, after all, strapping himself into an emotional rollercoaster without even being able to see the track ahead. It made Carlos’s heart lurch to look at him, he was so lovely and sweet and brave. “So I can just ask you to do something and you’ll do it?”

“Yes. And remember, I can only _ask_ you to do things, and you can say no at any time. If you want me to do something to you…to touch you…you have to ask.”

“Oh,” Cecil said. He sat down on the edge of the bed. “When do we start?”

“It’s up to you.”

Cecile looked at him, biting his lower lip. “I think I’d like to start now – just to try it. Is that okay?”

“Yes, Cecil…it’s more than okay.” Carlos said, his voice catching a little despite his efforts to steady himself.

Cecil looked a little abashed, and it reminded Carlos strangely of the early days of their relationship, when they had both been shy of each other, uncertain and frustrated as teenagers.

“Could you kiss me?” Cecil asked quietly. “That seems like the right place to start.”

Carlos held out one hand. “Jellybean, please.” Cecil withdrew a jellybean and dropped it into Carlos’s hand. Carlos sat down next to Cecil on the bed and, keeping his hands in his lap, leaned over and kissed Cecil, very lightly, on the mouth. Robbed of the presumptuousness of long familiarity, it was exhilarating despite being relatively chaste. Carlos couldn’t touch Cecil, so he could only lean into the kiss to increase the contact a little. Cecil held Carlos’s face gently as they kissed, and when they pulled apart, Carlos was not displeased to note that Cecil’s eyes were a little dilated, his cheeks slightly flushed.

“That’s good,” he said. “I think that’s enough, for tonight. I need to think.”

“Whatever you want,” Carlos said. “Is this okay? Does it feel okay to you?”

“It feels…safe,” Cecil said, squeezing Carlos’s hand. “It feels safe.”

Safe was the best that Carlos could hope for, and it was enough.

* * *

No more candy was exchanged until two nights later. 

Cecil pushed a jellybean across the kitchen table while Carlos was working on his laptop. Carlos immediately shut the computer and looked inquiringly at his boyfriend.

“I’d like another kiss, please,” Cecil said. His expression was a strange mixture of apprehension and hope, and Carlos loved him so desperately his heart almost broke in half right then. He scooted his chair closer but didn’t take the lead; he just placed himself within range and waited to see what Cecil would do.

Cecil leaned forward, one hand holding Carlos’s chin gently as he kissed him with such sweetness and languor Carlos thought he might die of it. Slowly, reluctantly, they pulled apart. They held each other’s eyes, and for a moment, Carlos almost thought Cecil might be about to call the whole thing off, but instead he punctuated their kiss with another, briefer touch of his lips to the corner of Carlos’s mouth.

He plucked another jellybean from the bag and pressed it into Carlos’s palm.

“I’d like you to take off your lab coat,” he said. “Slowly.”

Carlos stood up and removed his coat, one sleeve at a time, hooking it on one finger and flinging it over his shoulder, where it drifted to the floor.

“And your shirt,” Cecil said, handing over another jellybean. Carlos’s shirt followed the lab coat to the floor. Cecil hesitated. “Should I let you have a turn?”

“Not yet,” Carlos said. “I think I’d like to store up a few turns, just in case.”

Cecil’s eyes widened, but not with anxiety or panic, Carlos was relieved to see. “Okay,” he said. “Would you...take off my tie?” A jellybean changed hands. Carlos sat down again and leaned close as he tugged Cecil’s tie loose. Their eyes met and held as his fingers worked, and he bit his lip, hard, to remind himself not to kiss Cecil without an invitation. He slipped the tie free of Cecil’s collar and – with more effort than he had anticipated – let his hands fall to his sides. He was already breathing a little faster, and his heart was hurrying to keep up.

“Another kiss, I think,” Cecil almost whispered, and Carlos thought _oh thank the gods_ as he leaned forward and their lips met again, but more fiercely this time, a thing of teeth and tongues, and Cecil made a noise in the back of his throat that shot straight to Carlos’s groin. Carlos redeemed his first jellybean, skittering it across the table.

“I’d like your shirt,” he said, sitting back, hands held resolutely at his sides. Cecil’s fingers immediately went to his top button, working down the line swiftly. He shucked the shirt off his shoulders and tossed it into the pile of Carlos’s clothes.

They both stared at each other for a long moment. “Oh, Carlos,” Cecil said. “I had almost forgotten how beautiful you are.”

Carlos smiled. “You too,” he said.

“This might sound a little strange,” Cecil said. “I'd like to touch your hair.” 

Carlos nodded, and Cecil slid a jellybean across the table.

The sensation of Cecil’s fingertips on his scalp, as always, sent goosebumps rippling all over his body, and he shivered a little. He wanted to tell Cecil that he could be a little rougher, that he could even pull his hair if he wanted, but he bit his tongue and sat on his hands, schooling himself to patience. 

The slow, sensuous torture of Cecil’s hands in his hair went on, until finally Cecil paused. “I’m issuing an IOU on several more jellybeans,” he said. “We’ll sort out the accounting later.” He let his hands drag down Carlos’s neck and shoulders, along his arms. “Lovely Carlos,” he whispered, tilting his head and capturing Carlos’s mouth again. 

They had reached the point in kissing where Carlos usually forgot everything – they both did – and when his hands would start roaming almost of their own volition, but he tightened his hold on the edges of the chair and let Cecil kiss him and touch him until he made an agonized sound in the back of his throat, something between a whimper and a groan, and Cecil smiled up at him.

His fingers practically itched to touch Cecil. Instead, he shoved a jellybean back across the table. “Belt, please.”

Cecil unbuckled his belt and slid it out of its loops. As soon as it was free, he selected four jellybeans from the bag and handed them to Carlos. “I might need to have a few on account,” he explained. “I’d like you to finish undressing me.”

“Are you sure?” Carlos asked.

“I am completely, absolutely, unequivocally, 100% sure,” Cecil said, standing up and taking Carlos’s hand. As Carlos stood up, Cecil shot him an arch look and slid several more jellybeans to Carlos’s side of the table. “That ought to cover it, I think,” he said, as he led Carlos back to the bedroom.

As Carlos reached for the fly of Cecil’s trousers, he realized his hands were shaking. He inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself, and set to work, sliding the pants free and then, heart galloping, gliding hands along Cecil’s hips to the waistband of his boxers. He caught his breath as his fingers brushed against Cecil’s cock, and Cecil jerked as if he had been shocked. 

“God, Cecil," he whispered. "I'd like to-" he stopped. "Would you like to touch yourself now?”

Cecil almost moaned as he wrapped one hand around himself and moved his hand gently up and down. “I want your jeans,” he added. “And anything else you happen to be wearing.”

Carlos skinned himself out of his jeans and underwear and stared longingly at Cecil, who was stretched out across the bed on his back, eyes closed, one hand moving absently across his chest while the other worked lower down.

“Carlos,” he breathed. “Please – please touch me. Just put your hands on me, let me feel you,” he said. Carlos complied at once, tracing Cecil’s belly and chest, caressing his shoulders and arms. His hands followed the curve of his neck, ran through his hair, and he leaned forward to kiss Cecil’s chin, nose, eyes, and one of his ears. Then, with huge reluctance, he pulled away again.

“Is that what you wanted?” he asked. “Was that good?”

“More,” Cecil said, pulling Carlos close and kissing him hard, rolling on top of him and pinning him beneath his body. They moved together, reflexively responding to the warm friction where they were pressed together, and it felt so electric, so right and good, that time seemed to slow. Carlos was aware of several sensations at once; Cecil, gently biting and sucking his lower lip; his own hands pressed against the heated skin of Cecil’s back, Cecil’s leg sliding between his, the roll and thrust of their hips together, sending rockets of lust up Carlos’s spine where they exploded in his brain. He struggled to rein in his instinctive response, to _not_ take control of the moment as he had done so often in the past.

“Oh, god, Cecil,” he panted, as Cecil kissed his way down Carlos’s body, his hands trailing down his chest and belly. Then his world narrowed to the place where Cecil’s mouth was moving against his almost painful arousal and he forgot to think for several minutes. He remembered, just in time, not to touch Cecil uninvited, and clenched his hands in the bedspread as the pleasure grew into increasingly urgent erotic suspense.

“Cecil,” Carlos said. “It’s been more than a year…I don’t think I can wait much – ah! – much longer.” He bit one knuckle and closed his eyes, and Cecil stopped. 

“Wait,” Cecil said. “Not yet…please not yet.” He lay alongside Carlos, pulling his hand away from his mouth and kissing him softly. “I think I’d like to try it with you inside me, if you think you can. I’d like that very much.”

Carlos stared at him with almost desperate hope. “Are you sure?” he asked. “That’s not going to be too much?”

“I’m sure,” Cecil said, turning in his arms and opening the bedside drawer, handing a small bottle to Carlos.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” Carlos said, as he slid one finger inside, making Cecil gasp. “It won’t be easy…but it will never be too late, okay?” Another gasp as he moved two fingers gently against the tightness. “Never. Meanwhile,” he handed the bottle back to Cecil, “I’m redeeming a favor. Touch yourself, wherever and however you like best.” For several seconds Cecil made wordless sounds of pleasure as Carlos stretched him gently, gritting his teeth against the tide of his own arousal.

Cecil caught Carlos’s free hand and pulled it around his body, wrapping it around himself and pushing against it. “I like it best when you do it,” he said. 

Carlos moved his hand along the smooth-hot-hardness of Cecil’s cock even as he pressed gently into him. Cecil inhaled sharply then cried out, and Carlos hissed through his teeth, forcing himself to go slow, to be careful, not to answer his body's demand to rut furiously into the sultry, willing body before him. He was barely halfway in and it already felt like too much, but Cecil was moving against him, insistent. "Oh - _god_ \- Cecil," he gritted, sliding in deeper, the feeling of hotness and tightness and rightness sending shivers up his spine and into his hands. His teeth even chattered briefly. 

Cecil went even harder and fuller in his hand, and his breath stuttered. "Cecil - oh...oh you feel so good, so g-good," Carlos managed. "You okay?" he added, recklessly, hoping to whatever gods or monsters ruled over Night Vale that the answer would be "Yes."

"Yes," Cecil gasped, moaning and bucking against Carlos's hand mindlessly, and Carlos was about to lose his mind from the delicious pressure building like sweet and sour fire in his lower belly. He bit Cecil's shoulder, eliciting a shout of excitement from his partner, and felt the first contraction of Cecil's cock in his hand. "L-love you," he breathed into Cecil's ear. "Love you so much." 

They finally found their rhythm, and suddenly it was as if no time had passed; always, like this, they forgot everything except each other. 

* * *

“I love you, too,” Cecil said later, when they were finally, completely and dazzlingly spent, twined together uncomfortably – but comfortingly – amid the disarray of sheets and blankets. 

There was a long silence, and Carlos almost thought Cecil had fallen asleep, but then he spoke again.

“Can I ask you something?” he said drowsily. “It’s been bothering me for a while.”

“Of course,” Carlos said. “Anything.”

“You said that the desert otherworld was the most scientifically interesting community you’d ever visited,” Cecil began.

“It was pretty scientifically interesting,” Carlos confirmed.

“It’s just that…well, you said _Night Vale_ was the most scientifically interesting community you’d ever encountered, and it made me feel so hopeful, like maybe you might stay here for a while, like there might really be a future for us. And then, when you said the same thing about the desert otherworld…that _hurt_ , Carlos, it hurt so much, I know it’s stupid, but – well, there it is. It felt like you were rejecting Night Vale. And me. So my question is… _was_ the desert otherworld more interesting than Night Vale? Can you be satisfied here? Is this…is Night Vale…will it be enough?”

Carlos pulled Cecil closer. “You’re enough,” he said. “And besides, I’m not here just for science.” He kissed him, hugged him tight. “I’m here for personal reasons.”


End file.
